


Interrogation

by jillyfae



Series: Sweetest of All Sounds [10]
Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Archery, F/M, Sexual Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-08
Updated: 2013-02-08
Packaged: 2017-11-28 14:51:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/675615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jillyfae/pseuds/jillyfae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Varric is quite obviously the Mama Bear of Kirkwall, and he may not quite approve of Adelaide Hawke's taste in men ... poor Sebastian. ;)  (aka archery terminology is <i>ridiculously</i> suggestive)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Interrogation

**Author's Note:**

> [Archery Terminology](http://fog.ccsf.cc.ca.us/~tkobayas/archery/ArchTerms.shtml):  
>  Anchor Point: The fixed position of the bowstring hand on the jaw or cheek while holding or aiming.  
> Back: The side of the bow limb away from the string.  
> Bare Bow: Method of shooting which does not use a bow sight.  
> Belly: The side of the bow nearest the string. AKA: Face  
> Bull's Eye: The center of the target or that part of the target face with the highest scoring value.  
> Butt: A mound of straw on which the target face is placed.  
> Cock Feather: The feather at right angle to the slit in the nock of the arrow and usually a different color from the remaining feathers. AKA: index feather  
> Creeping: Undesired forward motion of the bowstring from the anchor point immediately prior to release.  
> Draw: The process of moving the bowstring with nocked arrow from brace height to the archer's anchor point on the face.  
> Follow-Through: The act of holding the release position until the arrow has struck the target.  
> Hen Feathers: The two feathers on either side of the index feather. Traditionally, these feathers are not as flamboyant as the index feather.  
> Kick: When the bow shoots with a jar to the bow hand.  
> Kiss Button: A contact point on the bowstring for the archer's lips to touch as to insure consistency and accuracy of the anchor point.  
> Longbow: A long, relatively straight bow that preceded the recurve bow in many cultures.  
> Nock: Device on the end of the arrow opposite the point, made with a groove for holding the arrow to the bowstring when placed in position for shooting.  
> Overdraw: Drawing the arrow beyond the face of the bow or drawing the bow to its point of maximum stress on the limbs.  
> Peeking: Undesired motion of the archer's head at time of release in an attempt to follow the arrow trajectory into the target.  
> Plucking: Undesired lateral motion of the string hand and arm away from the bowstring at time of release.  
> Quiver: Any device designed to hold arrows not being shot.  
> Range: Area designated for target or field archery.  
> Release: The act of putting the arrow into flight due to a release of pressure on the bowstring. AKA: Loose.  
> Self Bow: A bow made of one piece of wood or raw material.  
> Shaft: The body of the arrow upon which the nock, fletching, and point are mounted, and the crest is printed.  
> Skirt/Petticoat: The outermost perimeter of the target face outside the scoring area.  
> Spine: The measured deflection of an arrow when depressed by a two-pound weight at its center.  
> Tuning: Adjustment of arrow rest, pressure point, string height and nocking height to improve arrow flight; includes determination of correct spine.

"Choir Boy."  
  
The familiar rumble of Varric's voice was, luckily, not too much of a surprise, as Sebastian had caught the distinctive brown of his duster approaching out of the corner of his eyes.    
  
"Tethras," Sebastian answered smoothly, holding his position, bowstring taut under his fingers, close enough he could turn his head his head to touch the thin line against his lips, if he'd wanted.  There'd been a button there, when he'd been learning on his very first bow, to measure the draw until he could feel it in his arms, until his body and brain knew how to keep it consistent without the aid.  
  
His first kisser had been ivory, smooth against his lips.    
  
He had a feeling Varric wasn't here to talk about that sort of kissing.  
  
He loosed his arrow, ignoring the dwarf for his follow-through, drawing it out and waiting until the vibrations through the shaft from the impact with the target had stilled before lowering his arms and turning to greet his unexpected guest.  "How may I be of service?"  
  
Varric snorted softly at the formality, but Sebastian found it impossible to be easy around the dwarf, each semi-polite conversation only adding to the wall of disdain between them.  
  
"Just thought I'd watch, if you don't mind."  
  
Sebastian couldn't stop the surprise visibly raising his eyebrows.    
  
Varric shook his head, mock sadness weighing down his shoulders and arms.  "And here you bluff so well at Wicked Grace.  Need to work on that face of yours, don't you?"  
  
"No one's face can withstand your surprises," Sebastian's mouth twisted into a wry half smile.  "Always three steps ahead of the competition aren't you?"  
  
"At least."  
  
"Which means you're not likely to tell me why you're really here, are you?"  
  
"Watching you and that fine bare bow of yours isn't reason enough?"  
  
It was Sebastian's turn to snort.  Varric had drawled out that 'bare' well past the point of decency.  He definitely wasn't there to admire how well Sebastian shot.  "Is your cocking ring still a little off balance then?  Need some pointers?"  Two could play that game.  
  
Varric's eyes flashed a very quick grin in appreciation.  "Nah, don't think you could handle Bianca; quite sure any advice you attempted to give would be below her weight class, too."  
  
"Just because I don't think it's a point of pride to get kicked in the shoulder?"  
  
"You've got plenty of pride in that self bow of yours.  Bet you like to run your hands down the belly when you're alone.  Or are you a back man?"  
  
Sebastian could feel his cheeks heating up at that one, but he knew if he dropped his gaze for even a second he was doomed.  "I don't need lots of fancy moving parts to do my work for me.  No offense to Bianca, of course."  
  
"Too late.  She's a little offended.  How do you plan on making it up to her?"  
  
Even a blink might be too much of a sign of weakness.  "Custom bolts?  I know a very good fletcher."  
  
Varric raised an eyebrow at that, and slowly strolled over to the large permanent quiver built next to the bench along the side fence.  "Nice cock, Choir Boy."  
  
Sebastian closed his eyes and swallowed the urge to sigh.  Varric's back was turned, but his ears still worked just fine.  "They're just goose feathers, and you know it.  I'm not falling for that one."  
  
"You're not?  No falling at all?"  Varric turned around very slowly, one long arrow twirling gently between his fingers.  "I didn't say anything about hens, are you really sure I meant the feathers?"  
  
"I'm quite sure you have no interest in seeing me take off my gloves, much less my trousers."  
  
Varric chuckled in apparent agreement, before settling himself down on the bench.  "Weren't you practicing?  Shouldn't let little old me get in your way."  
  
"You're not little or old in any way that matters, Varric." The dwarf looked slightly amused as he shrugged.  "Are you quite sure you don't just want to ask whatever it is?"  
  
"Timing is everything.  Have to measure pace and tone to get just the right result... peeking spoils the shot, you know that."  
  
"Oh so you admit I do know something?"  Sebastian gently tugged on the arrow Varric had been admiring, before striding back to the shooting line.  He took his time, tuning his bow and the arrow, the familiar feel of the wood and string beneath his fingers calming the frustration that inevitably built anytime he felt himself in Varric's sights.    
  
"Never said you couldn't shoot.  Not so sure about that spine."  
  
Sebastian's mouth tightened, and he had to forcibly remind himself not to clench his jaw.  That one hadn't been about the arrow in his hand.  Unfortunately, there wasn't anything he could say that would convince the dwarf he would stay faithful.  He just had to do it, and hope Varric didn't harass him too much in the meanwhile.    
  
So he took his shot, instead, forcing his body to be calm regardless of his emotions.  
  
Bulls-eye.  
  
"Been awhile since you were chasing skirts, hasn't it?  Brother?"  
  
_Adelaide is not a skirt to be chased._  

Sebastian's fingers tightened, and he felt his arms tense as he almost dropped his arrow.   _Overdrawing my bow will not impress him._  Instead he simply shot again.  The arrow barely hit, burying itself point deep in the white border above the target face.  Sebastian swallowed a smile.  
  
"Hmm.  Thought you were a creeper."  Varric's voice was whisper soft, but still carried.  "Or are you just plucking away 'til you're bored?  Didn't think you'd be that easy to fluster.  Gonna run away to the Templar range next time, so I can't watch?"  
  
"Hmm."  Sebastian shot again, another arrow in the white, along the side now, barely far enough in from the edge to lodge firmly in the butt.  "Are you questioning my intentions, Varric?"  
  
"You're annoyingly well-intentioned."  The scorn in the dwarf's voice was thick enough to cut.  "I'm questioning your resolve."    
  
Sebastian loosed his next arrow, again and again and again and again, until his set was gone, neatly ringing the target.  
  
Varric grunted, though his face was still and unreadable when Sebastian turned to look at him.  "I'm afraid that's the only skirt I've chased in a decade, Tethras," he said softly.  "And I'd appreciate it if you spoke of Hawke with more respect in my presence."  
  
"As long as you treat her with said respect, we'll be fine."  Varric strolled halfway out of the range before turning to glare back at Sebastian.  "Bianca's keeping an eye on you.  And she'll expect those bolts within a sennight."


End file.
